Yesterday had all the makings of a really great day. Managed to get out of bed a little earlier than usual so I wasn’t so rushed, things were calm at work, and best of all, got a call from HR about my impending raise. Let’s just say it was a bit more than I expected plus they were supposed to make it effective in December so now they are going to pay me the difference for that paycheck as well. A nice lump sum will be coming my way on Monday, which is great since I’m still pouring money into the black hole that is my move. To top everything off, I got out early due to the thundersnow (after Snowpocalypse, that is just about the coolest name for weather ever).
Like I said, the day was shaping up quite nicely. That is until I woke up face down on my bathroom floor.
Wow, that sounds really bad. I feel like I should take a moment to assure people that I do not do any illicit drugs, nor am I anorexic or an alcoholic, or seriously ill in any way. What’s wrong with me then? Apparently I’m a chronic fainter. This will be at least the fourth time that I have passed out for one stupid reason or another, usually in a vain attempt to donate blood.
The part that’s really, really frustrating is not that I feel weak for hours afterward. It’s not the strange metallic taste that lingers in my mouth. It’s not even the fact that this time I actually fell from a standing position and now my knee randomly hurts. No, the part that sucks most of all is I am not a wimp. I do not scare easily. As a child, shots were my preferred method of getting medicine. I have always believed that a little bit of blood and/or pain is a fair exchange for putting the soccer ball in the back of the net. So why is this happening? It’s just embarrassing.
There is absolutely no reason for me to pass out, yet besides avoiding situations where it has happened before, there is nothing I can do to prevent it. A few seconds of light headedness is usually all the warning I get before waking up to people shaking me. Or, in yesterday’s case, to a great view of the bathroom floor, complete with overturned trash can.
I guess this might be a sign that I should finally get around to finding a doctor in DC. As fun as passing out at the drop of the hat can be, I’d really like it to never happen again. They’ve got a pill for everything these days, right?